


Brokestuck

by liobi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blackouts, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Terrible Ones, god chris is awful, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liobi/pseuds/liobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose hates Dave more than anything. More than the alcohol on her breath when she wakes up, more than the blackouts, and more than her court-mandated therapy for something she doesn't remember doing. But what she hates most of all is how he inadvertently introduced her to Jade Harley, and how she cannot get the girl out of her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a fringe idea, and somehow became what it is. Read on, fair viewers!

You can completely and truthfully say that in this moment, you hate Dave Strider more than anything you have ever hated in your life. More than your mother’s passive-aggressive head games, more than the smell of alcohol on your breath after yet another night you cannot remember, more than those headaches that come shortly before you black out, and much, much more than the court-mandated therapy every week.

Why? He woke you up at three AM and dragged you to a run-down diner, and still will not tell you why.

“I’m pregnant.”

You don’t smile. No, that slight creep upwards is not the beginning of a grin, it was a simple muscle twitch. “And may I ask you why you have woken me from my precious slumber at this ungodly hour to inform me that, in your words, shit has gotten real?”

“This shit is beyond real, it’s goddamn matrimonial at this point. Shotgun weddings abound from plush puppet ass, and with the baby on the way there’s no way in hell the groom is absconding because Dave Strider is going to get his love and devotion from the sinful progeny.” He keeps his hand on his stomach as he sips the complementary coffee. “I was thinking that the name should be kept in the family or something. Maybe take after the father too. How does Bro Tavros Jr. strike you?”

“How does your bandmate feel about his role as father of this immaculate conception?” You open three creamers and two packs of sugar and poor them into the coffee. You stir it thrice around clockwise and do the same counter-clockwise. A sip; it really is good coffee for a diner. “Surely this rampant debauchery and the consequences thereof cannot have gotten by his perfectly trimmed mohawk without objection.”

“Nah, it wasn’t rampant, totally contained. The shit was completely on the poly-faithful grid, sis. Gamzee stood by and even got a copy of the deed on tap.” Dave dips a fry in ketchup before tossing it in the air and catching it in his mouth. You shower his ego with polite applause as he bows his head. “I’d like to thank my sister for this heartfelt award. Seriously people, the shit comes from her and it’s fucking serious up in this bitch.”

“Of course, it would be unthinkable to have my shit in any other state.” Another sip of coffee. “I assume this pregnancy means that your infatuation with John Egbert is over, considering your now polyamorous relationship with your band.” He chokes on his coffee. You actually crack a smile this time.

“Oh, you’re the one that tried to rap-serenade John? That was so sweet!” You turn your head to see the voice coming from the positively glowing waitress. You do not for a moment think she is cute. Or adorable. You are definitely not blatantly lying to yourself either. Dave continues to sputter as she speaks. “Sorry it didn’t work out! And that his girlfriend was there too! And that she laughed! And that you ran away!”

Your quiet laughter has increased substantially in volume during her tirade. Your brother appears to want to find some hole to the earth’s core and throw himself into it. A lesson in why Rose Lalonde should not be dragged to a diner at some godawful hour of the morning, conveyed. “And who are you?” Dave asks. You cannot help the smirk that plants itself on your face at his curt tone.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot to introduce myself! Sorry! I’m Jade Harley, his cousin!” Dave later tells you that he was surprised he didn’t notice the resemblance sooner. The overbite, the glasses, the happy-devil-go-fuck-yourself attitude, his words not yours, could only come from someone related to Egbert. “What are your guys’ names?”

“Rose Lalonde, and the blushing coolkid over there is Dave Strider.”

“Also known as the one who throws the sickest beats and illest shit in the three-man-band, Miracles.” He’s composing himself now, pity. Dave will take pride where he can get it at this point.

“Oh right! My girlfriend keeps playing you guys! She says she used to know one of the members. Do you know Feferi?”

“Nah, must be ‘Zee or Tavros.” Dave shrugs as he gulps down the rest of his coffee. “I gotta go, we’re supposed to hit the road in an hour.”

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Shit, really? What?”

“A reason that will not provoke me to murder you for getting me out of bed.”

“Does a guy really even need a reason for wanting to see his sister before he hits the road?”

“Only when he sneaks into a high-security manor at three AM and wakes her up by poking her in the face.”

"If by high-security manor you mean that shitty place you and Kanaya rent-oh shit." his hand knocks into the cup, spilling hot coffee all over the table. Luckily it misses you. "Shit, sorry, fuck I'm supposed to be gone. My condolences on your coffee"

The door swings shut with a ringing bell as he absconds. You smirk as Jade offers you a refill. You thank her, but you really must be getting on your way back home. She smiles and goes to another table where an angry customer with a laptop and a lisp is demanding for her by name to get him more coffee. A muffled "Fuckass!" makes its way to your ears as you walk away.

The bell rings behind you as the door swings shut. You turn back for an instant and catch another glimpse of her before you duck into the cab. It appears that you have a new place to get coffee.

 

==> Brokestuck: Begin Act 1


	2. It's 4 AM and I Can't Hear My Heart Yet

Your name is John Egbert, and your girlfriend has just left you for a Law student in a pantsuit.

Welp.

She left a note on the counter, and you only woke up because you heard the door shutting. You knew this day would come eventually, ever since Vriska randomly popped into your life. You read the note.

_John, I want you to know this isn't anything against you, and it's 8een fun, 8ut fortune calls and who am I to diso8ey her?_

_Her name is Terezi Pyrope, she’s a law student who looks hot in a pantsuit, and if you want to show up and duel her for my honor that would 8e pretty gr8!!!!!!!! You wouldn't get me 8ack though._

_8ut seriously, you're still a great friend and if you need any help, don't hesit8 to ask :::;)_

_-V_

Casey wanders out of her room and asks for a glass of water, she had a bad dream. 

It’s 4 AM on a Saturday morning, your girlfriend just left you, and you now do not know how you’re paying this month’s rent. 

The smells of buttered popcorn and bacon waft through the room soon after, and you and your daughter sit down to watch the National Treasure films. It’s gonna be a good day.

\---

Your name is Jade Harley and you currently want to kill this fucker. “Get your bones out of my side.”

“Nope.”

“It’s a king sized bed, fuckass, your hips don’t need to dig into me!”

Sollux Captor stares at the ceiling. In the darkness, you can make out that stupid little grin he gets when he pisses you off. “My bones like where they are, thank you.”

“My ass doesn’t!”

“Ehehehehe. If you take two seconds to think about that sentence, it’s funny.”

You’re in the process of wrestling him off the bed and to the ground when the apartment door opens. You hear her walk through the house towards the bedroom, stripping with practiced ease as her clothes hit the floor, the table, and probably the countertop with soft noises. The bedroom door creaks open and suddenly you and Sollux are mashed together as Feferi jumps on top of you. “How’re my favorite cuttlefish doing?”

“Not right now, I’m trying to make him submit!” You say, struggling to move Sollux from underneath you.

“Ooh miss Harley, I’m being seduced!” he responds, laughing.

You’re about to bring out “the big guns” when a high pitch squeal escapes your mouth and you jump to the other side of the bed, looking back to see your boyfriend laughing himself silly and your girlfriend grinning, her fingers wiggling threateningly. “Rude!”

She settles herself between you two, still grinning. “I reserve the right to lift the tickle ban when it’s four in the morning and I want to get some sleep with you two.” She says, pulling you and Sollux in. You both look at each other from your respective boobs and nod in truce. There are advantages to having a girlfriend who’s six and a half feet tall. 

And then Bec decides that Sollux is the most comfortable bed of you three, and his sputtering is the sweetest sound in the world. 

\---

Your name is Equius Zahhak, and you are exhausted and quite happy to be home. 

The first thing you notice when you open the door is that Dirk Strider is wearing assless leather chaps. Only assless leather chaps. 

“Fiddlesticks.”

\---

Your name is Nepeta Leijon and you are never coming home from a sleepover at 4am ever again. Ever.

\---

Your name is Dave Strider and you are currently driving to pick up the person that is something like your step-sister. 

Normally if someone called you, crying, at 4am, you would ignore them. But then she said “assless chaps” and you completely understood.

That poor child. Looks like she’s coming to your gig today.

\---

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are currently engaging in the noble art of “dirty animalistic sex.”

You feel bad for Nepeta though.

\---

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you are trying to get some sleep. Something that is not aided by your girlfriend insisting on using the sewing machine. “Kanaya, as much as I appreciate your work ethic, I would kindly request that you do not engage in such things at this hour.”

“Oh yes, of course Rose, I will simply tell my client when she comes to pick up her dress at noon that, no, in fact her dress is not done because my girlfriend decided that she could not sleep with the miniscule amount of noise my sewing machine made.” She snaps. 

“Kanaya—”

“Oh of course I completely understand that you are the wealthiest client I have ever had and that I will never get any business after the poor service I have given you, but I could not compromise my girlfriend’s sleep! It would have been unthinkable!”

“You could have finished it two days ago had you not been reading the new _Fifty Castes in Grey_ novel.” You finally retort, sitting up to look at her. “You could have finished it yesterday, but that one daytime soap was having a marathon! This isn’t anyone’s fault but your own that you’re working at this time, and because of that I’m not getting any sleep.”

“I am surprised you even bothered coming home sober, since you cannot seem to get over your nightmares without the aid of alcohol!”

Silence bleeds through the room. “I’m leaving” you state, pulling yourself from the blankets, grabbing a duffle bag from under the bed, and proceeding to throw clothes into it. 

“Rose, I—”

“You have clearly stated opinions of me that you’ve obviously had for a very long time. As I cannot get sleep and you cannot stop working, I choose to remove myself from the situation. I can stay at a friend’s place, and will be back to gather my things before the week is out.

“Rose, please.”

“Goodbye Kanaya.” You look at her then. Really look. She’s melodrama and sarcasm all bundled into a dorkish, pseudo-elegant figure in a tee-sleeve with a side of skirt combo. She’s frustrated and stressed and has no idea how to help you or herself. Fragility, disbelief, and pleading well in her eyes; for a moment, you want to hold this girl in your arms so tight that it’s hard to breath and you’ll both break down in tears and sob for an hour before going out for tea and scones, and she’ll do the ridiculous thing where she draws a mustache on her finger, holds it to her lip, and tries to speak French.

And then the moment’s gone and you can almost hear the tear slide down her cheek as you walk out the door. “Goodbye Rose.”

\---

Your name is Gamzee Makara. You are currently stoned as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.


End file.
